


Chance

by keyflight790



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Flirting, United States, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 16:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16496060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyflight790/pseuds/keyflight790
Summary: Hermione finds herself on a different continent surrounded by Lady Luck.  Will she roll the dice and take the chance?





	Chance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nifflers_n_nargles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nifflers_n_nargles/gifts).



> Thank you to Nifflers_n_Nargles for putting on this amazing fest! 
> 
> Dedicating this to Jess, the amazing woman who let me fill up her inbox with drunken texts about casinos and beautiful women and Pansy's hands. 
> 
> Thank you to @violetclarity for her amazing beta-ness and all-around support

Hermione wasn’t a risk taker.  She liked to spend her time on secure facts, hard data.  Reading published studies with a strong hypothesis and even stronger results.

So when Ginny invited her to Vegas - the city of chance, with so many variables, so many avenues that could go wrong - for her and Luna's bachelorette party, she knew she should say no.

But Ginny's fiery eyes met hers as she reminded Hermione that she was the maid of honour, and she couldn’t, she wouldn’t refuse.

That’s how she found herself pressed up against the supple leather table, shaking loose die in her hands, wishing so _fucking hard_ , for a seven or an eleven.

Trying her luck with Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy had been standing there at the craps table in all black, the long stick of the whip in her hand.  She knew exactly what she was doing, passing out and collecting chips, rewarding and punishing every roll.  She winked once in Hermione’s direction, encouraging her to throw the dice, to take the chance.

Hermione had been taken aback at first, seeing Parkinson, of all people, in the crowded casino surrounded by the thick aroma of smoke and bad decisions. She was hard to miss; Pansy had practically tortured Hermione back in school with her cunning tongue and sharp beauty.  Seeing her in this element, though, surrounded by glittering lights on a different continent, had drawn Hermione to her table, to her mercy.

She quickly became spellbound by the fast movements of craps, the careful clock of Pansy’s hands, dealing each bet as the dice soared, cascading over the rough green.  Pansy was in control. She encouraged her, practically pushing the dice into Hermione’s hand.

“Craps is all about chance,” Pansy cooed from her position of power, winking at her former classmate. Hermione felt herself lean into it, lean into the sultry voice, blaming the hard burn of firewhisky still in her throat.

She cradled the dice in her hand, giving them a quick bounce before tossing them to the end of the board.

Pansy called out, “Yo, eleven,” and the table clapped, beamed at Hermione's roll.  And dammit, didn’t that feel good. Chips flew through the air as her fellow players picked up their winnings.  The end of Pansy’s whip pushed the dice toward her again.

Hermione’s palms getting slightly damp in the dim casino lights.  She rolled, watching the white dice bounce hard as they hit the edges of the table.

“Six, easy six!” Pansy called, tossing a smile in Hermione's direction, and her heart pounded for that, for that little movement.

A few of the other players called out their bets as chips were thrown haphazardly on the table, but Pansy kept her cool.  She steadily organized the stacks, marking which player had placed which bet, keeping count, keeping score.

She nodded to her left.  “Roller, come on, beautiful roller!” She grinned easily at Hermione, passing her a wink, as if she had meant it, meant the _beautiful_.

Hermione blushed, and with shaky hands she tossed the dice again, watching the black dots roll until they settled.

“Hard eight!” Pansy cried, passing out chips to those who had hedged their bets with the roller, had put their trust in Hermione.

It carried like that, Hermione throwing eights and fives and even a twelve, which caused an uproar from those playing the field.  And the table kept betting, and Pansy kept praising.

“Yes, we’ve got a golden roller!  Look at her go! Easy eight! Ten the hard way! Come on six!”

The whole table erupted when she finally rolled two threes, Pansy calling out “Hard six!  Great job, roller!” before she began distributing chips from her long, delicate fingers. A few players even sent a chip Hermione’s way, thanking her for the solid rolling, and Hermione couldn’t help but beam.  Maybe she could handle the unknown. Maybe she could handle the chance.

“Dealer switch!” Pansy proclaimed as she pulled off her apron, exposing her short leather skirt and long legs. Hermione bit her bottom lip as she stared, her brain foggy from the alcohol and the success of her rolls, the mound of chips nestled sweetly in her pocket.

“Room 1102.” Pansy nipped at her throat, quick, so quick that Hermione didn’t register it until it was over.

She didn’t know if it was the rush of the game, or the dim lighting, or the copious amounts of oxygen that the casino pumped in, but Hermione felt alive, electric in a way she hadn’t in a long time.  Not since she stabbed that Horcrux in the chamber. Not since she was told she was a witch.

She went off to find the almost blushing brides, discovering them tucked in a corner at the bar, hands wrapped around hips as they kissed.  She watched as the two young lovers grasped onto each other, drunk on love and firewhisky.

Hermione wanted that. She had wanted that for as long as she could remember. She yearned to feel safe, to feel secure, to feel loved.

But her whole life was built on stability, and where had that gotten her? A measly job and an empty flat, takeout on the weekdays and lonely walks home on the weekends.

No. Safety had gotten her nowhere. But maybe Lady Luck would be kind to her.

And where better to try her luck than in the city of chance?

She ran a hand over her hair, thankful for the smoothing cream that kept her curls tight and in place.  She wanted, no, she _needed_ to take a leap tonight.  And the eleventh floor held her chance.  It was with that thought that she turned on her heel, and headed toward the lifts.  

She knocked, hoping her strikes would hide her hesitancy.  She heard a soft “be right there,” and she waited anxiously in the hallway, her hands twisting knots into the sparkly pink cocktail dress she wore.

Pansy opened the door, and with a quick smile she said, “Well, well, well, aren’t I a lucky lady.”  Hermione’s knees weakened, and she had to hold onto the doorway for leverage. Pansy looked beautiful, still in her black leather skirt and thigh-high stockings, but her heels had been kicked to the corner and she had changed from her tight shirt to a caramel cashmere jumper.  

She gestured Hermione into the room, closing the door with a soft click.  Hermione surveyed the dark walls, stacks of clothes strewn over an armchair, a pile of books on the floor.  This was more than just a room in a hotel. It looked like Pansy lived here.

“How’d you end up in the US?  In Vegas?” In the same hotel that Ginny picked for her bachelorette party? Hermione wondered, her mind filling with questions, wanting to gather information and analyze the facts.  

Pansy smirked.  “You haven’t been keeping tabs on me, Granger?  I’m hurt.”

“No, I just --”

“I’m kidding.  I went off the grid.  Too many people mad at me for trying to turn in Potter.”  She let out a heavy sigh. “I came here to be a dancer, but turns out I’m pretty great at calculations.  Got put on the tables pretty fast, and they set me up with a spot in the hotel.”

“You were always good at Arithmancy,” Hermione added before she could catch herself.

Pansy arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “So you did notice, hmm?”  

Hermione had noticed her in school, with her straight black hair and full figure.  She had done as much staring at the Slytherin table as Harry had during sixth year, always under the hidden guise of chastising him.

“Most people notice me,” Pansy preened.  “Pretty girl with pretty tits can make men give away all their money.”  She winked. “Women, too.”

Hermione shuddered as Pansy stepped closer, running her finger along her collarbone before dipping into the neck of her tight dress.

“Do you like women, Granger?”

“Some,” Hermione blushed, her eagerness to provide an answer to a question overruling her trepidation. She let her eyes shift from Pansy’s throat to the soft pillow of her breasts.

“Interesting,” Pansy smirked, sitting on the edge of the bed, crossing her long legs.  She patted the space next to her.

Hermione sat awkwardly, careful to hold herself upright, not allowing her thigh to graze the black leather skirt that covered so little.  Pansy drew her foot up, rubbing her stocking-covered foot into the side of Hermione's calf.

“Have you ever been with a woman?” Pansy asked, her knuckles rubbing lightly against the hem of Hermione's dress.

“Once. A while ago.” Hermione could feel the hard flush on her neck as she stared down at Pansy’s hands. She licked her lips, noticing how Pansy's nails, polished an aqua blue, were also trimmed short, filed into soft rounds.

“Did you like it?” Pansy’s breath was hot against her ear, and Hermione felt a shiver down her spine.

“Yes.” Her voice came out high pitched and short. She shifted her leg so it pressed flush against Pansy.  

Pansy reached up and cupped the side of Hermione's face, drawing her closer. She nipped at her earlobe, licking the gold stud that Harry had bought for her 18th birthday.  The slightest moan escaped her lips as Pansy chuckled.

“Would you like to see what else my tongue can do?” Pansy groaned into Hermione's neck, and she nipped the soft flesh with her teeth.

“Would rather you use your hands,” Hermione gasped. She had been staring at those hands all evening, dropping chips, punishing and rewarding.

Hermione ached to know how those hands could reward her, too, if she could be Pansy’s lucky lady again.

“I like a girl who knows what she wants,” Pansy hummed. “And I happen to be very good with my fingers.”

Hermione closed her eyes eagerly as Pansy’s hands found her waist, pulling the beaded dress up and over Hermione's head, revealing the black strapless bra and lace panties that hid under the delicate fabric.  She had wanted to feel sexy tonight for once, and thank gods she did. Even without opening her eyes she could feel Pansy’s lustful stare as she admired the taut black fabric against Hermione's skin.

Her hands cupped Hermione’s breasts and released them from their hold, taking the rigid bra off her body. Hermione gasped then, the thrill of the cold air, of being exposed, of her breasts on display for Pansy to admire.

She glanced carefully through her long lashes and gasped as she saw the dark, lustful look in Pansy’s eyes.  It made her feel desirable, edible.

“You’re so gorgeous.” Pansy smiled encouragingly as her hands dipped lower, tracing the black lace that was snug tight against her hips.  “I’d love to drag a cold ice cube down your stomach, over your nipples until you shiver. Maybe even tie your hands up while I taste you.”

She kneaded Hermione’s breasts, tracing her curves before her fingernails scraped the peak of her nipples.  Pansy’s tongue lapped against her throat as Hermione began to pant.

Hermione leaned her head back as Pansy’s hands finally dipped below the scant fabric of her panties, moving further and further towards the wetness between her thighs.  “Maybe next time, hmm?”

She barely registered the assumption that there could be a next time, a next time where she could get so lucky to have Pansy’s hands, her mouth, her beautiful gaze on her again. Pansy’s fingers dipped low as they grazed the light trail of pubic hair that Hermione refused to spell off.

“Merlin,” the sound came out like a moan, as Pansy pulled back out before dipping in again, slightly deeper.  “You’re so wet, Granger. Lean back for me, lovely. I want to see you spread out on my sheets.”

Hermione fell back, her fall comforted by the thick pillows that covered Pansy’s bed.  This wasn’t a thrilling vacation for Pansy. This was her life. And she was choosing to spend a night of it with Hermione.

Pansy nudged her soft thighs apart before drawing circles around the top of her cunt with her thumb.  Hermione propped herself up on her elbows, anxious to see what those hands could do to her.

Pansy took two fingers and began to open her folds, allowing her thumb to roll tantalizingly around Hermione’s clit.  She could feel something deep building in her belly as her body responded, arching off the mattress as Pansy continued to slowly tease her sensitive nub.

“Yes,” Hermione groaned as Pansy caressed the pad of her thumb quickly over her clit before bringing her attention back to her sensitive surroundings.  

“Please, Pansy.”  Merlin, she was already begging and Pansy hadn’t even _really_ touched her.  Her cheeks heated further, growing even darker as she wiggled against the torturously slow onslaught that was just this side of not enough.

“Kiss me,” Pansy moaned, leaning back and positioning herself so that Hermione could feel her hot breath against her throat.  Hermione relaxed onto the bed, turning her head to face the beautiful brunette. For the first time all evening, she could admire up close the almost-lilac irises that were set behind thick eyeliner and the seductively red lipstick that coated Pansy’s mouth.  She licked her lips hesitantly, suddenly embarrassed even though her breasts were on display and Pansy’s hands were just centimeters from the deepest part of herself.

“You’re so pretty, Pansy.”  Her voice came out as a whisper, released just before those gorgeous lips were on hers, pressed against her own.  A moan escaped, and Hermione wasn’t sure who it belonged to. Their kisses were soft, almost reverent as Pansy’s tongue slowly explored her mouth, teasing Hermione’s bottom lip, her thumb still rolling in circles against her.

She tried to stay horizontal, allowing Pansy the best access, but she couldn’t help but adjust her own hands, sliding one across the thin strip of skin showing above Pansy’s leather skirt, the other one gripping the sheets below her.

Hermione’s hands traced upwards, under Pansy’s jumper, pulling against the underwire of her bra.  She yanked, trying to release Pansy’s breasts despite her awkward angle.

Pansy broke their kiss, murmuring against Hermione’s cheek.  “If you want to see my tits, all you have to do is ask.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, and she sat up sharply on the bed.

“I want to.  See them, I mean.”

Pansy smirked, pulling her top off in one quick motion, revealing a velvet blue bra, cut low, so low that her breasts practically overflowed. She unhooked it from the front and took her time pulling one strap, then the other off her graceful shoulders.

Hermione bit her bottom lip as she took in Pansy’s beauty.  She couldn’t blame the firewhisky, or the thrill of the game, or even her own Gryffindor courage for what she did next.  She could only blame her internal want, the yearning she felt from the second she spotted Pansy on the casino floor.

She pressed Pansy back onto the bed, watching the way her breasts bounced, before she straddled her and placed a rough kiss on Pansy’s collarbone before dragging her mouth lower.  

“Yes, my little kitten,” Pansy gasped as Hermione lapped around her nipples, pulling one into her mouth for a moment before releasing it.  She wanted to open her mouth, tell Pansy the exact reasons why she was in no way like a cat but decided quickly against it. Especially since she wanted to turn her focus towards hearing Pansy gasp like that again.  Her mouth instead found the other nipple, biting softly as she sucked.

She felt Pansy’s hands skim her stomach before her probing fingers dipped once again below the lace of her panties.  Hermione trembled as they traveled lower than before, finally plunging into her wetness.

Hermione groaned, leaving Pansy’s supple breasts and traveling back to her sultry lips.  She licked against Pansy’s teeth, holding her mouth open, not kissing, but so close that they were sharing the same breath.  

Pansy curved her fingers, propelling them upwards as Hermione bucked hungrily against her, against her hand.

“Such a good girl, letting me pet you,” Pansy mewled into Hermione’s mouth as her thumb began to stroke her clit, harder, rougher, faster than before.  Her other hand found Hermione’s breast and pinched hard on her nipple.

Her fingers were rushed now, stroking at a rapid pace, and Hermione could feel it deep within.  Pansy was building something exquisite inside of Hermione, and she could feel herself rising towards her peak.  The pace was brutal, and Hermione pressed up on her palms to focus and allow better access to her wet cunt.

The sensation hit Hermione all at once, as she threw her head back, coming hard on Pansy’s hand, keening against her touch, feeling her all over.  She quaked, only the tiniest squeak escaping her throat as she tipped over the precipice.

Pansy began to rub gently, slowly easing out of Hermione as she came down from her orgasm.  Pansy clutched Hermione’s side as she rolled onto the soft bed, curling herself into Pansy’s waist.

“So beautiful when you come,” Pansy praised as she ran her hands over Hermione’s curls.  Hermione smiled, shifting slightly to get closer to Pansy’s neck. She itched to get Pansy out of her skirt, to drape herself over Pansy’s pale flesh.  

“Take off your stockings, will you?” Hermione asked.

Pansy smirked before she stood, rolling her fishnet tights off of her long legs, sitting back down once she was successful.  Hermione straddled Pansy’s thighs, her lace panties still wet to the touch, as she lifted Pansy’s long, thin arms carefully above her head.  She pushed Pansy to the mattress as she tied the loose fabric from her stockings into one big bow, knotting her hands to the headboard.

“Whoa, you’re feisty, aren’t you, Granger?  Want to show me what you can do with that tongue?” Pansy purred.

Hermione realized that she did, in fact, enjoy being compared to a cat as she lapped her tongue against Pansy’s clavicle, listening to the intoxicating moan that escaped Pansy’s mouth.

She dipped lower, placing soft, tender kisses down Pansy’s stomach before she reached her tight leather skirt.  Hermione hooked her fingers into the hem and yanked, pulling the skirt down her slender legs.

Situating herself on her knees, Hermione studied the beautiful display in front of her.  She had never done this, not this part, and she needed to gather the facts.

She looked up at Pansy, who was staring at her, eyes heated behind black eyelashes, and gave a tentative lick between her folds.  She relished the reaction she saw, Pansy shutting her eyes and tilting her head backward, pulling slightly against her restraints, a strong groan coming from her throat.  It gave Hermione the confidence she needed to begin her exploration.

Hooking Pansy’s leg onto her shoulder, Hermione delved in.  She had heard once to spell the alphabet, but Hermione wanted to challenge herself and began drawing ancient runes into Pansy’s cunt.  The patterns were intricate but seemed to pay off as Pansy writhed and bucked, tugging against the headboard as her pleasure built. Hermione thought back to Pansy’s hands, wanting to feel them once again.  

She cast a quick _Diffindo_ , and was instantly rewarded with fingers threading over her curls, and a soft, tender touch to her cheek as she worked her tongue into Pansy’s wet center.

Pansy started shuddering hard when Hermione started on Algiz, so she stuck with that rune, tracing her tongue hard against and around Pansy’s clit.  She savored the gasps and moans that escaped Pansy’s mouth when she came, bucking against Hermione’s mouth, her lips, her tongue.

Hermione continued her ministrations until Pansy stilled.  Pansy’s hands cupped the side of her face as she was pulled upward into her arms, warm and inviting.  She snuggled back into Pansy’s side, naked, sated, and wonderfully at peace.

For once, Hermione felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing except my obsession with Pansy.


End file.
